“I told you so,” he said. “You call yourself a clever man, Mr. Varley Howard; I call yer a fool to think that we should bring the gal here where yer could foller her. I tell ye we know nothin’ about ’er. Most like she’s gone back to England, where she come from.”
Varley retained his calm by a supreme effort. His eye wandered over the sullen group.
“There is one of you I miss,” he said. “Where is Simon?”
“He ain’t here,” said the man; then he leered malignantly. “Ah, Simon!” he said, “now yer mention it, I shouldn’t be surprised if he had ’ad a hand in this game.”
The Three Star men emitted a growl, and one or two fingered their revolvers longingly.
“Shouldn’t be at all surprised,” continued the man, with a sardonic satisfaction and stroking his wounded arm. “Yer see, you spoilt his game with the coach the other night, and this may be his way of payin’ you off. Yes, I shouldn’t be at all surprised if Simon’s got the gal; and if so you’ll have to pay pretty dear to git her back. Simon ain’t a man to be trifled with, is he, boys?”
The Dog’s Ear men grinned discreetly, and with sidelong glances at the shining revolvers of their captors.
“Where is he?” demanded Varley; and the man shrugged his uninjured shoulder and spat on the ground with exaggerated indifference.
“Can’t say, guv’nor,” he said; “I’m not Simon’s nuss. He left this ’ere camp jest after the coach bus’ness, and when the police came poking their noses. We ain’t answerable for Simon and his goings-on, and if yer want ’im yer’d better go and find ’im. An’ if yer arst me, I think you Three Star chaps are playin’ it pretty low down on a neighborin’ camp. Dog’s Ear ain’t ’ad much reason for regardin’ Three Star with brotherly love up ter now, an’ this ’ere foolishness is a-goin’ to be chalked up agin you.”
The threat broke down Taffy’s self-restraint.